Lead Me Through the Fire
by Chanel19
Summary: Takes place six months after Auld Lang Syne. Hermione's past comes rushing up at her in an unexpected way. Ron must come to terms with mistakes he's made and endeavor not to make them again. It's a trial by fire for both of them.
1. So Kiss Me and Smile for Me

Chapter 1: So Kiss Me and Smile for Me

_For June 1__st__ it was surprisingly warm_, Hermione thought, as she shifted the sack of parchment she was carrying on her shoulder. She trudged up the stairs of her parents London townhouse, and chastised herself for continuing to think of it as theirs instead of hers. They'd been gone a long time now, she'd redone the whole place, yet it still felt like theirs.

"The World Cup will be the death of me," Hermione grumbled as she came into the kitchen, dropping a bag full of parchment on the counter. Ron was sitting at the table, reading _The Daily Prophet_ and drinking a cup of tea.

"Hang on," Ron said, setting his tea down. "What do you have to do with the World Cup? I thought you went to a conference today."

Hermione poured herself a cup of tea from the teapot in front of Ron. "I went to a conference on hosting the World Cup. I can't believe England's doing it again so soon."

"Soon?" Ron exclaimed. "It's been almost a decade."

Hermione took a sip of tea and promptly spit it back into the cup. "Oh, Ron, how can you drink this Lapsang Souchong stuff? It's dreadful."

Ron shrugged. "I like it."

Hermione poured the remains of her cup in the sink.

"So why are you involved in the World Cup?" Ron asked, pulling another teapot out of the cupboard.

"Practically the whole Ministry's involved."

"Still," Ron said, pouring water into the pot. "What do the Unspeakables do at a sporting event?"

Hermione rolled her neck and the joints popped loudly. "What don't we do? Come on, Ron, who do you think sets up all the non-Apparition space, all the anti-Muggle charms? It's not easy hiding a space that large for that long without anyone noticing it. It's also not easy making it so no one can Apparate into an area that large, not to mention all the Portkeys that need to be made. I'll be working on this pretty much non-stop all month."

"All month?" Ron touched his wand to the teapot to boil the water.

"That's why they called the conference. Not only are we to be on grounds for two weeks before the Cup, but we're also expected to stay through the event to make sure everything goes smoothly. No one's forgotten what happened last time England hosted the Cup."

"But Voldemort's gone now." Ron held up a couple of boxes. "What kind of tea do you want?"

"Just chamomile. I don't need any more caffeine. I'm wired enough as it is. And it doesn't matter that he's gone, the Ministry is still very nervous about it."

Ron put the tea in the pot and pushed it toward her. "So when do you leave?"

Hermione rotated a teacup in her hands, running her index finger along the gold leaf around the rim. "Tomorrow," she said softly.

"Tomorrow? And you're just telling me now?"

She looked up at him sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I thought I was going to be able to get out of staying, but one of the others, his father's dying."

Ron frowned. "Why can't you just say his name? I know you're an Unspeakable."

"It's my choice to reveal what I do to people I trust, but I can't reveal someone else."

"Fine," Ron grumbled. "So they're short by one, and now you have to stay?"

"Right," Hermione poured herself some tea. "Originally, I was going to be on call back at the Ministry. I've got a project going that no one particularly wanted me to drop, but it looks like I'll have to for the duration of the Cup."

"A whole month, though," Ron pushed his fingers through his hair and Hermione noticed it could use cutting. "That's a long time, luv."

Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out a small envelope. She slid it across the table at him. "I hope this will help make it up to you."

He took the envelope. "What's this?"

"Fourteen tickets to the match of your choice and one open pass, that's for you." She bit her bottom lip.

"Fourteen?"

"I thought it might be nice for the whole family to attend a match together."

Ron leaned over and gave her a big kiss. "They'll go mad." He gave the tickets a closer look. "Hermione, these are top box tickets."

She blushed.

"I love you," he said, fanning out the tickets.

"Well, I love you too. That's why I got them."

Ron nodded his head. "These are so good I might have to shag you for this."

"Oh my," Hermione arched her eyebrows and smiled, "as good as all that? And I know that's such a chore for you too."

"Yes," Ron nodded, "but for tickets like these, I'll roger you good."

Hermione stood up and trailed her fingers along the table as she walked out of the room. "Thank goodness, I hate the bad sort of rogering."

"You better run," Ron said.

Hermione laughed as she took off up the stairs.


	2. The Love I Thought I'd Won

Chapter 2: The Love I Thought I'd Won

Ron had his thumbs at the base of her spine as he took her from behind. "I never get tired of this," he smiled, sliding in and out of her in smooth strokes.

"Well, that's good," Hermione said, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Seeing as how we'll be married next month."

"Get up here, so I can kiss you," he growled.

She accommodated him with effort, sucking in a harsh breath at the shift in position. He took her face with one hand, keeping her head turned so he could kiss her. He knew it was a little rough, but she didn't seem to mind. He moved his other hand to find her center and take her with him. When he felt her start to tremble he let himself go and spilled inside her. When he released her, she didn't even bother to try and catch herself but simply fell face forward on to the bed. Ron crawled next to her and lay down.

"You are so good," he said, grinning.

Hermione turned her head to look at him. "You're not so bad yourself."

"You're sure you have to leave tomorrow?" Ron stuck out his bottom lip in a pout.

She rolled over on her side facing him. "Sadly, yes."

"And I can see you when?"

"Two weeks, when the Cup starts. You've got an open pass, once it starts you can come and go as you like, although, I'll warn you. I'm going to be working. A lot."

Ron pushed a stray curl behind her ear. "You know, Bulgaria's in the Cup this year."

Hermione dropped her eyes and nodded.

"They're the favorite to take the whole kit and caboodle." Ron tangled his fingers in hers.

"Ron –"

"Are you going to see him?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm not going to seek him out, but I can't promise I won't run into him and I can't promise he won't seek me out."

"I can't say as I much care for that idea," Ron grumbled.

"I can't say as I care to see him either, but I can't control what Viktor does." She disengaged her fingers from his and ran her hand along his chest, lacing her fingers through the hair there.

"What'll you say to him?"

She shrugged. "I suppose that depends on what he says to me, but I'll tell you this, Ron Weasley - I'm happy. I'm happier now than I've ever been before. I have no interest in going back to Viktor."

Ron leaned in and kissed her softly on the mouth. "I know, but it's nice to hear you say it."

Hermione smiled, picked up her wand and performed a cleaning charm on both of them. "Let's go to sleep. I've got to get up early and pack, then I'm supposed to have breakfast with Ginny at eight o'clock."

"Oh, I'm going to miss her then. I have an eight o'clock meeting with George and a buyer from Singapore. Then I've interviews all afternoon."

"Still haven't found a manager to suit you?"

"It's not as easy as it sounds. The lot I interviewed today were abysmal."

Hermione kissed his cheek. "I'm sure you'll find someone."

The next morning Hermione woke at six, and started packing for the World Cup. It was challenging to try to think of everything she'd need for the next month.

Ron strolled into the library, which Hermione used as her office, at seven-thirty. "Need any help?"

She looked up at him. "Loads," she said, pushing her hair back. "But I can't think what you could do."

Ron looked at the pile in the center of the room. "Did you pack your camera?"

Hermione snapped her fingers. "No, and I'm going to need that to remind me of Portkey locations. Good job, Ron. I just need to run upstairs and get it."

Ron put out a hand to stop her. "I'll get it, you finish up here. Where is it?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "It's in Mum and Dad's old room in a blue box. It should be on top and I'm pretty sure it's labeled 'camera and photos'."

"Alright," Ron said, "Shouldn't you be putting that lot in your trunk."

Hermione looked at the pile with exasperation. "Yes, I'm going to have to cast a shrinking charm to get it all to fit."

Ron clasped his hands to his face. "Oh, dear, do you know how?" he teased.

She threw a pair of socks at him as he left to get the camera. A few minutes later, as she was putting her tent into the trunk, she heard a crash from upstairs followed by a curse.

"Ron?" she yelled. He didn't answer.

She started to go out into the hall to find him when he suddenly appeared at the door.

His face was red with fury. "What the hell are you playing at?" he shouted and he flung a stack of pictures at her, some of them hitting her face.

"Ron!" she shouted.

"Filthy slag!" he shouted back and stormed out of the room.

Hermione glanced down at the floor where one of the photos lay face up. "Oh," she sank to her knees, "No," she whispered.

She could hear the front door slam open followed by Ginny's voice, Ron telling her to bugger off, and the front door slamming shut. She couldn't be concerned with that now though, right now all she could focus on was picking up every single one of the photos because they had to burn.


	3. I'm Sorry for the Things I've Done

Chapter 3: I'm Sorry for the Things I've Done

When Ginny came into the library Hermione was sitting at her desk. She'd conjured a small portable fire in the middle of it and was feeding it photographs one at a time.

"What's got into Ron?"

"We've had a row," Hermione responded mechanically.

"No, really? I hadn't noticed." Ginny looked at her. "What are you doing?"

"I have to burn these."

Ginny sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. "Are you alright? What's happened?"

Hermione looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes. "Ron found some pictures from a vacation of sorts I took with Viktor years ago."

"He's got his knickers in a twist over holiday pics?"

"They're rather graphic," Hermione said softly.

"Ooh, those sort of pictures." Ginny grimaced, and then smiled. "Still, how bad could they be?"

"We were in Amsterdam."

Ginny drew in a sharp breath through her teeth. "But –"

Hermione flicked a picture at her across the desk.

Ginny flipped it over. "Oh my," she said, and then stuck the corner of the picture into the flame. "Alright, then. Well –"

"Do you have a low point?" Hermione asked in a hollow tone. "A time when you've sunk so low you don't know how you ever got back?"

"Yes." Ginny drew in a ragged breath. "As I recall, you among others ended up petrified during my lowest point."

Hermione looked up at her, tears in her eyes. "But you were just a child and possessed by an evil wizard, what's my excuse?" She fed the last of the pictures into the flame and dropped her face into her hands.

Ginny sat back in her chair. "I don't know, what's your excuse?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't…have one. It was just such a bad time."

Ginny sighed. "You know it's easy to relegate what I did to an innocent seduced, but that doesn't change the fact that it still took a long time before I could look in the mirror and not hate who I saw."

Hermione closed her eyes and pushed her hair back. "But no one else hated you."

"That's probably true," Ginny smiled. "But at the time it felt like everyone else hated me as much as I did."

"But they didn't really, in my case, they really did. No one sent owls. No one sought me out. It was months before I heard from anyone."

Ginny nodded. "When you left? I'm sorry Hermione, but Ron was in such a state - "

Hermione laughed, but it was anguished. "He was in…oh…he was." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "You and Harry make it look so easy."

Ginny laughed. "It only looks easy from the outside. Come on, Hermione. He was destined to kill the wizard I was once possessed by, you think that doesn't make for a weird relationship dynamic?"

Hermione looked at her, and wiped the tears off her cheeks. She shrugged. "Yeah, all right, I can see how that would be weird. Still, Harry doesn't have Ron's temper."

"Maybe not," Ginny countered. "But he does have one. You should see what happens when I slip and say Tom instead of Voldemort. He goes positively mental."

Hermione grimaced. "Well, yeah. I can see how that would upset him."

"Well, sure," Ginny said, "but I don't do it on purpose." She sighed, "Look, I don't know what lead up to what I saw in that picture, but I know that's not like you, and Ron will too, as soon as he calms down."

"Fifteen days."

"What?"

"It was fifteen days after Ron broke up with me. Viktor showed up here. We'd had dinner a few times before that, but when he showed up here, he…the season was over, he asked if I wanted to go to Amsterdam. He knew some people there. He was into the whole intellectual decadent movement that was going on after the war." She pressed her fingers against her temples in tight circles. "I hardly remember any of it. I don't even know when these pictures were taken. Until Ron threw them at me, I'd forgotten they even existed. He's never going to speak to me again." The tears started again.

Ginny shook her head. "That's not true. He's plenty mad, but it'll boil off and then you two can talk this through."

Hermione looked up at her incredulous. "How do we talk this through?"

Ginny shrugged. "You just do. Ron loves you. He lost you once and it liked to kill him, I can't imagine he'll be eager to go through that again, especially over something you did ages ago."

"But when are we supposed to talk?" Hermione cried. "I've got to leave in a few minutes to go to work."

"That's good. It'll give him time to cool off and you two can talk when you get home."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. "I won't be home for a month. He can't even see me for two weeks." She passed her wand over the portable flame and it disappeared.

"What?"

"I'm part of the World Cup preparations. The grounds are locked for the next two weeks."

Hermione pushed her fingers back through her hair. "This couldn't possibly have happened at a worse time. I could just kill Viktor. I'm sure he put those photos there on purpose."

They sat for a long time in miserable silence.

"I didn't know you were an Animagus," Ginny finally commented.

Hermione looked up at her. "Gin, I know you must know by now what it is that I do."

Ginny cleared her throat. "Well, I know you work at the Ministry, but no one ever seems to say at what, so I assume you're an Unspeakable."

Hermione nodded. "There is very little in the way of magic that I can't do."

Ginny smiled. "Memory charm?"

Hermione leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Ginny nodded solemnly.


	4. There Doesn't Seem a Way to be Redeemed

Chapter 4: There Doesn't Seem a Way to be Redeemed

Hermione made her way back toward her tent at six o'clock. It was the first time in two weeks she'd gotten home before nine at night. People were starting to arrive for tomorrow morning's opening match. She made her way past them hoping to eat dinner and collapse into bed. As she reached her little plot of ground she heard a familiar rumbling voice behind her.

"Hermione, a word please."

She turned to see Viktor walking toward her, a crumpled piece of parchment in his hand.

"I got your letter," he continued, "this is not right."

Hermione looked around anxiously at the people walking by. She definitely didn't want to have this conversation out in the open. Viktor was way too high profile. "Come in," she said folding open the front of her tent.

Stepping into the tent brought them into an open living room with two curtained off bedrooms on either side of it and a small eat-in kitchen in the back.

"Nice tent," Viktor commented. "Did you make yourself?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded.

"Of course," Viktor said wryly. "Why do I ask?"

Hermione didn't say anything.

"But about letter. This thing you accuse me of, it is not right."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. "You're telling me you didn't put those pictures in that box."

"Of course, I did, but not to..." he looked at the letter to find the word. "Sabotage your relationship with that scrawny punk from Hogwarts."

Hermione clenched her jaw at his derogatory reference to Ron, but didn't rise to the bait. Obviously, Viktor hadn't seen Ron in a long time. She let out a frustrated sigh. "Then why?"

"I thought I would have chance to talk to you when you came to pick up the rest of your things, but you chose to come when I was out of town."

Hermione dropped her eyes. She'd known it was a cowardly thing to do at the time. "I'm sorry about that."

"Well, had you come when I was home, I would have told you about pictures. I put them in there so you would know where they were. I thought a person of your position might not be comfortable leaving such things behind, and I did not want you to worry that they might be found or used inappropriately."

Hermione felt completely deflated. _He was looking out for my best interest, how very like him, _she thought sadly.

"How was I to know that man would go through your things?"

She sighed, "He wasn't going through my things. I was packing to come here. I forgot my camera; he went to get it." She threw up her hands in frustration. "Viktor –"

The flap to the tent opened and Ron stepped in. His hair was longer now than it had been two weeks ago and so was his beard. In his khaki shorts, white tank top and hiking boots, he looked like a Viking on summer holiday. "Hermione?" he said as he stepped into the room.

She could have sworn he knew how to do some sort of wandless engorgement charm, because he seemed to get bigger. He seemed to fill the whole room as he stepped toward them. At six-four, he was a big man, but standing next to Viktor, who was five-nine on a good day when he wasn't slouching, made Ron look the size of Hagrid.

"Viktor," Ron said, anger boiling beneath his words.

"I was just leaving," Viktor said. He looked at Hermione. "You break my heart," he whispered in Bulgarian.

"I'm sorry," she said without looking at him. He stepped out of the tent and was gone.

Ron blew out an angry breath and glared at her. "You want to start by explaining what he was doing here?"

Hermione swallowed hard. She wasn't physically threatened by Ron. He'd never threatened her that way and even if he did, she knew a hundred ways of stopping him in his tracks, but she felt very threatened nonetheless. She knew that what she said now had the power of making or breaking her future happiness and it left her nauseated and panicky.

"I sent him an angry letter accusing him of deliberately trying to sabotage our relationship," she answered honestly.

Ron continued glaring.

"He showed up here with the letter. He was upset about my accusation." She explained Viktor's motives in packing the photos.

"Yeah," Ron said, seeming to accept her explanation for Viktor's presence. "About those pictures."

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. She felt as if she might be sick, like her legs might give way on her. "Can we sit down?"

Ron sat in the armchair near the entrance and she sat on the sofa, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"I've been thinking about those pictures pretty much nonstop for the last two weeks," he continued.

Hermione pressed her fingers tightly against her temples and closed her eyes.

"I was furious at you for…I just couldn't believe that you would…then Ginny came by and talked to me."

Hermione looked up.

"She said she talked to you about the pictures," Ron continued.

Hermione bit her bottom lip.

"She said I was a great prat and should mind my own business about what went on when you were with Krum. Then she reminded me of my own less than sterling past."

He didn't say anything else.

Finally Hermione prompted him, "And?"

She could see his jaw working. "And I have some questions."

She felt her stomach lurch. "Alright," she said, her voice shaky.

"First of all, I'd like to know what would possess you to go to something like that in the first place."

Hermione took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She'd been thinking about this conversation for two weeks. She didn't want to mess it up. "Ron, it's not like Viktor showed up and said 'hey do you want to go to Amsterdam and drink and do drugs and have an orgy.' It didn't happen that way."

Ron pulled at his beard. "Then how did it happen?"

"Look, there are some things you should know. First of all, Viktor lost his fiancé during the war. She was killed by Death Eaters in the Ukraine. His Quidditch game had gone to hell and he was in danger of being kicked off the team or at best, benched. I'd broken up with you; I didn't have a job and was living off the money my parents left me in that big, old house in London. The application process for becoming an Unspeakable was taking forever. I was just…at loose ends. Then I ran into Viktor at the market of all places, he was staying in London and making the rounds to the English teams. We started talking. We had dinner a few times. Then he just showed up one night. He said some people he knew had rented a house in Amsterdam for a month and had invited him to stay with them. He asked me to go with him, and I didn't really have a reason not to, so I went."

Ron paled. "You were there for a month?"

Hermione shook her head, "Not quite a week actually, thanks to Viktor. I don't think he was any more prepared for what happened than I was. I mean decadence is one thing, but that kind of debauchery is another. Honestly, Ron, if Viktor hadn't insisted that we leave, dragged me out of there really, I'm not sure I would ever gotten back on my own. It was just so easy to let go of it all. Magic is such a different thing when you're in that state. It's so…tangible." She shook her head.

Ron scrubbed his fingers over his scalp. "You know, until I saw those pictures, I didn't even realize you were an Animagus."

Hermione shrugged. "It was part of the application process."

Ron shook his head. "Interesting application of the skill."

"What?" she looked at him. "Hang on, I didn't…we didn't…that's not what it looked like. I transfigured to slip out of the room, but when I came back I was so messed up I couldn't transform back, so I just curled up next to Viktor. We didn't do anything while I was… like that. Bloody hell, Ron!"

He looked relieved. Then he shook his head again. "Well, you can't blame me for thinking that," he said sorely. "I mean I wouldn't have thought you capable of most of the things I saw in those pictures, and yet, there you were."

She closed her eyes, desperate for this conversation to be over. "Yeah," she said softly, "there I was." She thought for a moment what to do to make this go away. "Look, Ron, I'm not proud of it, but it happened. I can't take it back and I can't change it. I've learned to live with that. The question is, can you?"

Ron scratched his chin through his heavy beard. "I guess I'll have to, because I can't live without you. I did that for three miserable years. I won't do it again."

Relief washed over Hermione in palpable waves.

"I hate that slimy Bulgarian git, though," Ron grumbled.

Hermione hesitated as to whether she should say anything. Finally, she felt she couldn't let it go. "He doesn't deserve that, Ron. Viktor really helped me. He stayed with me for two weeks after Amsterdam just to help me pull myself back together. Thank goodness he was there, because the Ministry called wanting me to be an Unspeakable the week after we got back. I would have been in no state to take the job without his help. Really, Viktor just has a Lavender problem."

Ron raised his eyebrows.

"His only real flaw is that he isn't you."

Ron sat quietly for a moment just looking at her. Then he held his hand out. "Come here."

Hermione stepped over to him and curled up in his lap. "I'm so glad you're here."

Ron tightened his arms around her. "Me too." He looked down at her. "You seem thinner. Are you eating?"

"Like a horse," she said, "it's just I'm burning so many calories casting spells that there doesn't seem to be enough food in the world. Actually, I'm starved now. Are you hungry?"

"I can always eat," Ron said.

Hermione slipped off his lap and he followed her into the kitchen at the back of the tent. She charmed two knives to start chopping vegetables and set about cutting up cheese and apples to eat with crackers while dinner was cooking.

Ron fiddled with the crackers in front of him but didn't really eat much. "You got any ale?"

Hermione shook her head. "Sorry. I didn't bring any alcohol. I have to keep my mind completely clear for this kind of spell work." She pushed some sliced apple toward him, "Not to mention, I've been rather upset, the last thing I needed was to go crawling into my cups when I'm working sixteen-hour days."

Ron took a slice of apple and put it on a piece of cheese but didn't eat it. "Look, back at the house, what I said…I didn't mean it."

Hermione swallowed the bit of cheese she was eating and washed it down with some water while she tried to think how to answer. "It wasn't…It wasn't unjustified given the circumstances."

Ron shook his head. "That kind of stuff is never justified. I flew off the handle without thinking." Ron sighed. "I don't know what it is about you. I don't do stuff like that in any other part of my life anymore, but I guess there's a part of me that's always eleven-years- old around you."

Hermione laughed softly. "I know what you mean."

Ron stood and pulled her into a hug. "I don't want to be that bloke. He lost you once before shooting his mouth off."

She pressed her face into his chest breathing in the scent of him. "You're not going to lose me again. Call me what you will, you'll have to do better than that to get rid of me."

Ron kissed the top of her head and she wondered to herself how that simple gesture could fill her with such joy.

"Come on," Ron said, "let's get you some dinner."

Hermione waved her wand over the knives and they stopped their chopping. She cast a locking spell on the flap of the tent and looked at him. "Dinner can wait."

"Excellent." Ron said.

Hermione hesitated.

Ron looked at her. "What?" he asked smiling.

"I…" she shook her head.

Suddenly, he understood what was going on. "You were just going to say let's do it here, right?"

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. "You don't think that's something…" she stopped.

"A slag would do?" Ron asked.

She dropped her eyes, clearly stung.

He stepped up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Listen very carefully, I do not think you are a slag."

She turned her head away from him.

"I think you're a randy girl. You always have been, almost from the moment I popped your cherry."

She swatted at his chest. "Ron," she scolded.

"What? It's true. You like sex. You always have. That's nothing to be ashamed of. Actually, I've always considered it one of your finer qualities."

She leaned into him and rested her forehead against his chest. "But –"

He lifted her chin up so she'd look at him. "Things got out of control for you in Amsterdam. That was almost four years ago. We all make mistakes, luv. Let it go."

She put her arms around him and hugged him tight. "I love you so much."

"Well, I love you too." He grinned. "Now would you like me to love you here on the table or would you prefer the bedroom?"

Hermione bit her lip and thought about it. "Better take it to the bedroom," but only because I'm not entirely sure how specific a locking charm is on a tent."

He swooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, pushing the curtain aside as he went. He set her on her feet and gave her a feral smile. Without ceremony, he began tugging at the buttons on her shorts. He pulled them down taking her underwear with them in one stroke. She stepped out of her sandals and the clothing and bit her bottom lip. He rubbed his face against hers, tickling her with his beard, and softly kissed her lips. He slipped his hands up her back under her shirt and unfastened her bra but left it where it was. "On the bed," he said, his voice low.

Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed and then scooted back across it. She was actually a little nervous. It had been two weeks, and she could tell Ron was in a very specific mood. It felt weird to be sitting on the bed, naked from the waist down.

He toed off his shoes and pulled off his shirt and then joined her on the bed, coming toward her on all fours like a great beast. She would have giggled if he hadn't looked so predatory. In one fell swoop, he pulled her shirt and bra over her head but left her hands tangled in them. He pressed her back against the bed with her arms over her head and kissed her. It was a plundering kiss, and it made her despair a little even as it excited her. It's not like they never did this. At six-four, Ron could hold both her wrists in one hand and explore the rest of her body with impunity. Sometimes she found that incredibly erotic, right now she was a little disappointed. She'd wanted to be made love to; she wanted reconciliation sex, slow and loving. Instead, it was clear she was going to be fucked, which had it's own merits, but just now felt a little too much like punishment. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. She tried not to let it bother her that she was naked spread out on top of the covers and he was still half dressed. She knew her body would react like it was supposed to. She didn't have to concentrate for that. Besides, it wasn't like he was hurting her, quite the opposite really. He was just in complete control.

He licked his way down her body. Stopping where he wanted to, biting lightly here and there. When he finally settled his mouth between her legs, she thought she might weep from relief, but he brought her to the edge of orgasm and left her there. She wanted to protest, but clamped her mouth shut instead, keeping her eyes closed. She was penitent, she wouldn't complain.

With her wrists still tightly clasped in one hand, she could hear his other hand working his zipper. She could feel his shorts against her thighs as he just pulled them down just enough to get inside of her. "I really missed you," he groaned as he plunged into her. Her back arched at the sudden intrusion and she gasped, but didn't say anything. Ron's hands were both over her head now pulling the shirt and bra away from her hands. Relieved that she would finally be able to touch him, she started to move them down but he caught them and laced his fingers through hers stretching her arms out to the side in a cross. The weight of his torso was on his arms and thus on hers now as well. Her chest heaved with the effort as he began to move. Not thrusting in and out, but grinding against her in a circular motion. She was grateful that he wasn't pounding into her. In this position the difference in their sizes was pronounced and he'd hit her cervix, which got painful pretty quickly, but this circular thing, this was dizzying. She'd been close before but now she felt like she was skating on the razor's edge.

"Look at me," Ron said.

Her eyes opened and she looked up to see him looking down at her. The muscles of his chest were stretched taught and sweat was beading on his forehead. The intensity of looking into his eyes as he did this to her was overwhelming in it's intimacy. She blinked, struggling not to close her eyes again. He seemed to want something from her, but she was so close to coming she couldn't think. She was panting and the muscles in her arms were starting to burn. She held her breath until she started to see sparkles on the edge of her vision and then it started like an earthquake from the center of her body and moving outward. Ron instantly changed tactics. He let go of her hands and gripped the headboard, bracing himself as he started steadily plunging in and out of her. It was mere moments before he collapsed on top her, forcing the breath from her lungs and leaving her dazed and limp. Thankfully, he remembered rather quickly that he outweighed her by a hundred pounds and rolled off of her.

"Shit," he said, reaching for his wand and casting a contraception charm.

Hermione closed her eyes and didn't say anything.


	5. Rumors Follow Everywhere You Go

Chapter 5: Rumors Follow Everywhere You Go

Hermione woke at six o'clock the next morning. Ron lay sprawled on his back, softly snoring. The tent was warm and the sheet had slipped off of him, so he lay naked in all his splendor. She had some time before she needed to be at work, so she leaned over on impulse and gently pulled back his foreskin and swirled her tongue around the tip of him. It occurred to her that she rarely got the opportunity to take him from flaccid to full regalia, generally he was all too ready for her.

She smiled as he began to stir, continuing her ministrations until she felt his hand slide deep into her hair.

"I love waking up like this," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

Hermione murmured her agreement causing him to jump in her mouth. She took her time, waiting to see if he'd wake up enough to participate or if he was going to be lazy and just enjoy her efforts.

He was lazy.

He managed to whisper, "I love you," as he came, but that was followed by a soft snore.

Hermione sat up and looked at him. She laughed softly, and pulled on a dressing gown. She regretted not putting a shower in the tent, but didn't have time for an addition now. Instead she cast a cleaning charm on herself and went out to the kitchen to start breakfast. She was starving. They never had managed to get back to a full dinner last night. Two weeks of angry and distraught deprivation turned out to be more important to resolve than her other appetites. Now, though, she was completely ravenous, and a little queasy from not having eaten. The vegetables she'd chopped last night were still on the counter. She pulled out her wand and started them sautéing on the stove. She made a large pot of tea then she began putting together a casserole. Unfortunately, her only recipe for breakfast casserole came from Mrs. Weasley and served ten, but this morning she didn't really see that as a problem. She was just putting it in the oven when she heard a knock. She tucked her wand in the pocket of her dressing gown, walked over and stuck her head through the tent flap. George and Charlie were standing there.

"Oi, Hermione. How are you this lovely morning?" George asked.

Hermione stepped back and gave them entrance to the tent. "I'm fine, um…"

"Ron didn't tell you we were coming, did he?" Charlie asked.

"No, but I'm glad you're here. I'm just getting breakfast on. Come in; sit down. Want a cup of tea or some juice?"

The brothers sat at the kitchen table. When Hermione had a cup of tea in front of Charlie and a glass of juice in front of George, she checked the casserole. She cast another heating charm on the oven just to brown the top and went to wake up Ron.

George turned to Charlie. "When did Hermione get so sexy?"

Charlie shrugged, "I don't know, but I was wondering the same thing."

"Yeah, what happened to that bushy-haired little book geek?"

Ron stepped out of the bedroom just then and swatted them both in the back of the head with a roll of parchment as he walked by to get tea.

"Ow," George grumbled. "We were only admiring your taste in women, Ronnikins."

"Shut it," Ron growled, looking in the direction of the bedroom, "those are only drapes you know."

Charlie grimaced, and mouthed, "Sorry."

Ron poured himself a cup of tea and sat down across from his brothers. "What are you doing here? I thought the meeting wasn't until two o'clock."

"It's not, but Dad scored us tickets for this morning's match." George held up three tickets, "Want to come?"

Ron scratched his chin through his beard. "Who's playing?"

"Wales and Djibouti," Charlie said, shrugging.

"Kind of an obscure match up, that is," Ron said.

"Well, that's why they're on at eight o'clock in the morning." George said.

"What the hell, I'll go." Ron said.

"Go where?" Hermione asked as she came out of the bedroom. She'd pulled her hair back in a loose ponytail and tightened the sash of her dressing gown.

"To the match this morning," Ron replied. "I thought you had to work today."

"I do," Hermione said, levitating the casserole out of the oven and setting it on the table. "But not for an hour."

They all tucked in to breakfast. George placed a small foil packet on the table and opened it to reveal a small amount of brown powder.

Ron noticed Hermione's eyes widen. "What?" he asked around a mouthful of egg.

"George?" she said quietly. "What are you doing?"

George looked up at her. "Oh, don't you know what this is? I thought I'd told everyone."

Hermione blanched. "I know what it looks like."

"It's our latest development. Food Friend. If you don't like something, you sprinkle this on it and it tastes like something you do like. No offense to your cooking, I just don't like cheese."

"Oh," Hermione said relieved. She resumed eating.

"Why?" George asked. "What does it look like?"

Charlie answered, "Heroin." But he was looking at Hermione.

"You should make it pink or something," Ron said, trying to diffuse the sudden tension at the table. "You don't want people mistaking it for something it's not."

George nodded. "That's a good idea."

"I wouldn't put it in packets like that either," Hermione mumbled.

"Oh, no," George said, "Angelina's working on the packaging. It'll be much nicer than this."

"Good," Hermione said, sipping her tea.

The rest of breakfast passed peacefully with Ron and George carrying most of the conversation about marketing.

Just after the men left, Hermione noticed Ron had left his omnioculars and the parchment he'd intended to take to the meeting on the kitchen table. She hurried and caught them just outside the tent.

"Ron," she said, stepping out into the daylight. "You left this."

A flash went off in her face.

"Oooh, how delicious. Weasleys, Weasleys everywhere and only one little Miss Granger," a sickeningly sweet, familiar voice said. There stood Rita Skeeter and her photographer. "That just might make the cover of _Witch Weekly_."

"You," Hermione growled, and Ron had a sudden sinking sensation.

"Oh, dare I dream, are you about to give me a quote," Rita threatened. Her Quick Quotes Quill poised in the air behind her."

"You won't print that picture."

"And why not?" Rita smiled and stepped up to her. "I'm a registered Animagus now. I'll not have some little slag holding that over my head any longer. You can't do a thing to me."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I think you'll find I can do quite a lot."

Rita blinked.

Hermione's wand appeared out of nowhere. "Accio camera," she called and the camera flew out of the photographer's hand and into hers. She touched the back of it with her wand and the film exploded out and caught fire. She let the camera drop to the ground. Then she flicked her wand again, "Accio Quill." The Quick Quotes Quill flew to Hermione and she snapped it in two with her fingers.

Rita drew herself up. "Surely you don't think this little show of temper will stop me, but please do keep going, it'll make a fabulous article."

Hermione seemed to notice the people around her for the first time. "In the tent," she hissed.

"I'm not going – " Rita squealed as Hermione waved a hand and they were both suddenly swept into the tent.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron cried, as all three men charged after the women.

The sight that met their eyes stopped them all in their tracks.

The air around Hermione crackled. Her rage was palpable. "Unless you wish to spend the rest of your life in a jar in my library, you will stay away from me and mine. If you hear I am somewhere, you will be somewhere else. If you see me on the street, cross to the other side."

"Like I would transfigure in front of you, what kind of fool do you think I am?"

Hermione's wand was up again and she said an incantation Ron had never heard before. There was a clap of what sounded like thunder and where there once was Rita was now only a small beetle, which Hermione caught effortlessly with her hand. "I think," said Hermione, "that you are the worst sort of fool." She tossed the beetle at the door and said the incantation again. Rita lay sprawled at the entrance. "See that I never notice you again," Hermione said. There was a deadly edge to her voice that made the hair on the back of Ron's neck stand up. Rita couldn't scramble out of the door fast enough.

Ron noticed then that Hermione's dressing gown was gaping rather more than was decent. The old scar from Dolohov that crossed between her breasts was clearly visible. He crossed to her and closed it. "Are you alright?" he said softly.

She suddenly seemed to notice the men were in the room. She hugged herself. "Sorry," she mumbled and fled to the bedroom.

Ron looked at George and Charlie, who stood with their mouths gaping. "Go without me, I've got my ticket, I'll meet you there." He followed Hermione into the bedroom and found her changing into khaki shorts and a Chudley Canon's T-shirt.

"You're going to work in that?" he asked.

"We're supposed to blend in and not draw attention to ourselves," Hermione said, her face scarlet.

"Seriously," he said, "are you alright? What was that out there?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I just lost my temper."

Ron touched her cheek. She looked up at him. "You're really scary when you lose your temper."

She closed her eyes. "I know. I'm so sorry, Ron."

"It's alright," Ron said, pulling her into a hug. "I think Rita may have wet herself, but that's alright."

"That bitch made my life miserable with her comment about you and me and Harry, and then she hounded Viktor and me constantly. I just didn't want her starting in on us. This thing with you, it just seems too fragile right now, thanks to me. I just couldn't bear her making it worse. Oh, what your brothers must think." She clasped a hand over her eyes.

Ron kissed the top of her head. "I'm sure they think I've got to have balls of steel to be with you. Actually, I kind of think that myself."

Hermione pressed her face into his chest. "I've got to go to work."

Ron tightened his arms around her. "Are you sure you can't be a little late? You're overwrought, and I owe you from this morning."

Hermione leaned back and looked up at him. "I really have to go, but I won't forget you owe me."

Ron smiled down at her. "I'm counting on you not to."

She stepped away from him and smiled. "So I'll see you later?"

"Definitely," Ron said. "And Hermione."

She looked at him.

"There is nothing fragile about our relationship. I can be upset with you and still love you."

Hermione dropped her eyes and nodded. "I know," she said softly, "it's just…" she bit her lip and shook her head. "I have to go."

"Go," Ron said, "we'll talk later."


	6. Chasing the Dragon

Chapter 6: Chasing the Dragon

At six o'clock, Hermione dragged herself home. She was starving and anxious about this morning's little display of temper. It wouldn't surprise her if Rita went to the Ministry about it.

She was standing in the kitchen eating left over casserole she'd warmed with her wand when Ron burst into the tent.

"Hey, did you hear?" There was a big grin on his face.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Wales won, and what a match. That's the most exciting Quidditch I've seen in years."

"Yes, I know, I spent most of my day with the Welsh contingent preparing their party tent," Hermione said, and continued to eat.

"Then I'm sure it's smashing," Ron said. "Come on, let's go."

Hermione set down her now empty bowl. "To the party?"

"Yes," Ron said. "That fellow we met with this afternoon. The buyer from Brazil, he's originally Welsh. He was so happy he ordered loads of product and he invited us to the party."

Hermione sighed. She really just wanted to stay in tonight. "Oh, alright, just let me change my shirt."

"That's a good idea," Ron said, and followed her into the bedroom.

She pulled on an olive green shirt with _The Weird Sisters_ emblazoned across the chest.

"Where are you getting these T-shirts?" Ron asked as he pulled on a clean blue camp shirt.

"Ginny." Hermione answered. "That's why she came to breakfast the day I left."

"Oh," Ron said.

Hermione regretted bringing it up as she pulled her hair out of it's braid, cast a straightening charm on it, then pulled it into a bun and cast several charms to hold it in place.

"Why do you do that?" Ron asked.

"What?" Hermione asked, as she checked the mirror.

"Straighten your hair." He moved to stand behind her and looked at her in the mirror. He seemed a little cross.

She shrugged, and looked at his reflection. "It's such a mess when it's down."

Ron kissed her neck. "I love that mess."

Hermione leaned her head to the side to give him better access. "You're the only one."

"Good," he said softly. "Come on, let's go."

Hermione was disappointed. She was hoping he'd continue with the kissing which would lead to shagging and the party would be forgotten. No such luck.

They walked to the party holding hands.

"Oh, hey," Ron said. "Did I mention I hired a manager?"

Hermione looked at him. She was a shocked. Ron must have interviewed twenty people for that position and none of them measured up to his exacting specifications. "Really?" she said.

"Yeah, and you'll never guess who it is."

Hermione couldn't think of anyone who hadn't already been passed over.

"Seamus."

"Finnegan?" Hermione asked. "I thought he ran the Hogsmeade store for Fred and George."

"Not anymore." Ron grinned. "He sent me a letter last week. It seems he and Lavender - "

Hermione rolled her eyes.

" - are expecting their third child, so he was interested in a place that didn't have such long hours. Fred and George are open seven days a week until ten o'clock."

"So you hired him?" _Great_, Hermione thought, as she instantly began to dread the idea of company picnics and Christmas parties with the Finnegans.

"Yeah," Ron said. "He's great. He's one of their best managers. I'm offering him a higher salary, and he'll get home at a decent hour to be with the missus and the kiddies."

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Well that's great," she said and tried to mean it. "Does this mean you'll be home more too?"

"As it turns out," Ron said, draping an arm across her shoulders. "It does. And it gives me more time to work on development."

Hermione wrapped her arm around his waist. "Well, that's excellent then."

"There's just one draw back."

_We have to see Lavender at company functions_, Hermione thought but said, "What's that?"

"Fred and George are going to kill me."

Hermione laughed, sure that he was right. "Come on," she said, "it's down this way." They could hear the party before they could see it.

As they rounded the corner of one of the makeshift streets, a huge blue tent rose up in the night air. The entire outside shimmered and fireworks were flying in all directions. The flaps were folded back and people were spilling out into the night, dancing, drinking, and having a rollicking good time.

"You did all this?" Ron asked, surprised.

"Of course not," Hermione said. "I hid it from the Muggles."

Ron looked at the spectacle in front of him. "How do you hide something like this with just a few hours notice."

Hermione smiled. "I'm good."

Ron cupped her ass and pulled her against him. "I know that, luv, but what about the magic?"

She laughed as she pushed him away and walked into the tent.

He followed her into the party and marveled at the number of people. They were waiting to get a drink at the bar when Charlie and George found them.

"Oi, Ron," George said. "Where've you been? Come on, Sean has someone he wants us to meet. Another buyer."

Ron and George were soon swallowed by the crowd, leaving Hermione and Charlie waiting at the bar. When it was Hermione's turn, she ordered a fire whisky neat and then asked Charlie what he wanted. He asked for a pint. She got one and handed it to him and they made their way from the crowded bar. As they stood watching the crowd, Charlie cleared his throat.

"So, chasing the dragon much these days, Hermione?" he asked in her ear.

Hermione closed her eyes, wishing desperately to be somewhere else. She sipped her whiskey and shook her head.

"But you have?" It was more of a statement than a question.

She opened her mouth to say something but words wouldn't come.

"It's unusual habit for a witch to have, don't you think?"

"It was never a habit." Hermione said just loud enough to barely be heard over the din.

Charlie raised his eyebrows.

"It was an incident." Hermione clarified.

Charlie smiled wryly. "Really? During my incident I ended up in a Chinese brothel for three days. How about you?"

Hermione looked down at her drink.

"Does Ron know?" Charlie asked.

Hermione knew there was drug use in some of the pictures. She nodded.

"Was he?"

Hermione looked up sharply. "No. Never. We weren't together at the time."

"Krum?" Charlie asked, surprise written all over his face.

Hermione started to feel panicky. The International Quidditch Association had very strict rules against drug use even during the off-season, even if it was years ago. She shook her head. "Of course not."

Charlie narrowed his eyes at her.

"Please, Charlie," she said, "please just drop it. It was a long time ago. It has nothing to do with who I am now."

Charlie nodded. "Fair enough. It's just…it was so bad when you left before…I had to make sure there wouldn't be another disappearing act."

She looked at him. "Disappearing act?"

Charlie started to respond, but Ron and George appeared then and George grabbed Hermione's hand. "Let's dance," he tilted his head toward Ron, "This lout won't take you, come on."

Before she had a chance to respond, George was pulling her out on to the dance floor to swirl among the other dancers.


	7. And the Rain Comes Down

Chapter 7: And the Rain Comes Down

Ron and Charlie managed to secure a table, so Ron sat watching as Hermione danced with George. It was a fast song that he swung her through effortlessly. Had Ron not known that there was absolutely no chance of anything happening between George and Hermione, he might have been jealous, but as it was he sat back and enjoyed watching her enjoy herself. For a moment, the dancers aligned in such a way that Ron had a clear view across the room. He was disconcerted to find that on the other side of the tent, Viktor Krum was doing the exact same thing he was, watching Hermione dance with George. Ron pushed down a sudden rush of rage as an image of Krum and Hermione from that stack of photos popped into his head. He didn't want it there, but the image persisted.

"Hello, Ron," a soft French accent said.

Ron looked up and Gabrielle DeLacour was standing next to him. "I did not know you all would be here." She leaned down and hugged him amicably. Ron hugged her back. The song ended abruptly and Hermione and George made their way back over to them.

"Gabrielle?" Hermione said. "It's been ages."

Gabrielle hugged everyone in turn. "What are you all doing here?"

She got a flurry of answers. They had all sat talking for a while, when Hermione excused herself to go to the restroom. Gabrielle said she would go too.

In the loo, while they were washing their hands, Gabrielle turned to Hermione. "Hermione," she said hesitantly, "I was wondering, would it be tasteless…" She paused and seemed to reconsider.

Hermione dried her hands and said, "What?"

"Would it be tasteless of me to ask you to introduce me to Viktor Krum?"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Um…I suppose not."

"It's just," the younger woman blushed. "I have always had a bit of a crush on him, since long ago during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I know it is a silly school girl thing, but still…there will probably never be another opportunity like tonight."

Hermione tossed the used paper towel into the dustbin. She smiled at Gabrielle. "Then by all means, you should seize the moment."

The two women walked out of the restroom and over to the side of the tent where Viktor sat with several other members of the Bulgarian Quidditch team.

As Hermione walked back over to where Ron and his brothers were sitting, she could see by the look on his face, that Ron was furious.

He stood and walked toward her before she reached the table. "What the hell are you doing?" he growled.

She took a calming breath. She'd already had one angry outburst today; she was trying to avoid another. "Gabrielle asked me to introduce her to Viktor, so I did."

"What did you go and do that for?" Ron asked.

"I just told you, she asked me to." Another fast song started and she had to shout to be heard.

Ron gripped her arm tightly and steered her out of the tent. "She's just a girl," Ron said as they reached the relative quiet outside.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked.

Ron scowled at her. "She's too young to be tossed to the likes of him."

"I didn't toss anyone anywhere." Hermione strained to keep her voice low. "I just introduced her. He remembered her from Hogwarts anyway."

"So it doesn't bother you what this might lead to?" Ron asked.

"If it leads to anything, it will be her choice. They're both adults, Ron."

"Oh, like you were an adult, like it was your choice?"

Hermione felt anger seep into her frustration. "I was an adult, Ron, and while I might not have always made good choices, they were mine to make."

Ron shook his head. "I don't understand how you could do that."

Hermione walked away from him. She was sobbing by the time she reached her tent. He was never going to let this go. She didn't know how she could have imagined he could get past this. She knew how stubborn Ron could be, how tenaciously he could hold on to things. She was sure every one of those pictures was burned into his brain and that no amount of effort on her part was ever going to clear the images away.

Ron kept walking around the campsite. He was furious, as much at himself as at Hermione. He hated that he kept seeing those stupid pictures. As if the weather could sense his mood, thunder rumbled across the sky. He kept walking until he reached the stadium. As he walked it's perimeter, the sky opened up and the rain came down.

When the lightening started, he began to question the safety of being outside. Lightening struck the stadium and Ron could see the magic begin to rip. He'd never seen anything like that. A group of people started running toward the stadium, and he was horrified to see that Hermione was among them.

The rain was falling in sheets now, and he was soaked to the skin, but he was held riveted to the spot as he watched the Unspeakables. His eyes were locked on Hermione. He was astounded to see her conducting, he assumed that was the word, the magic. He could see it funneling through her and the others as they worked in unison to maintain the structure of the massive stadium. The storm swept through in less than fifteen minutes leaving behind it a steady but gentle rain. The Unspeakables stopped their spell and the stadium once again stood like a permanent structure on the moor. Ron watched as Hermione and the others started back toward their tents chatting excitedly about the evening's events, but Hermione didn't seem to be participating. At first, Ron thought she was still upset about their fight and not in the mood to talk, but as the others approached her, she collapsed with a muddy splash.

Everything seemed to happen at once. Ron started running, someone was sent to fetch a healer. The other Unspeakables converged around her. Ron called her name and pushed through them until he was kneeling next to her. On the other side of her, an older man was pushing up one of her eyelids.

"Yup," he announced, "she Spliffed."

"That's not like Granger," a younger man said. Ron thought he recognized him as the head boy that was Percy's predecessor.

"Who are you?" The older man asked Ron.

"Ron Weasley, I'm her fiancé."

The older man looked at one of the others. "I thought she was marrying Krum."

Ron started to protest.

"Never mind. What are you doing out here?"

"I was taking a walk. What did you say is wrong with her?" Ron asked, anxiously.

"She Spliffed." The older man said crossly.

The younger man stuck his hand out to Ron. "Thomas Greene," he said, "Granger's, I mean, Hermione's partner."

Ron ignored him and pushed the hair off Hermione's forehead. He couldn't stand her lying there in the mud, but he was afraid to move her. "Where's the damn healer?"

Thomas squatted next to him. "She'll be okay, she just Spliffed."

Ron glared at him. "What does that mean?"

"She over-tapped," Thomas said.

Ron wondered why none of these people made sense when they spoke. He noticed Hermione's wand on the ground next to her hand and pocketed it.

"She didn't have the energy to sustain the magic she was channeling," Thomas explained. "She knocked herself out."

"Out of the way, out of the way," a strangely familiar voice said.

Ron looked up to see the familiar face of Madam Pomfrey making her way toward him. The older man got out of her way as she knelt over Hermione. She looked up at Ron. "Mr. Weasley?" she said, "I thought I'd seen the last of you two when you graduated." She passed her wand over Hermione and said an incantation. "Spliffed," she said, standing. "Let's get her back to her tent."

Ron reached down and pulled her from the mud.

"I can do Mobilicorpus," Thomas said.

"So can I." Ron glared at him. "I've got her." He held her tightly against him as he carried her back to the tent. He could hear the older man tell the others to go home, but Thomas Greene followed Ron and Madam Pomfrey.

Once inside the tent, Ron set Hermione down on the sofa. He could see that there was a burn across the chest of her T-shirt running between her breasts and another along her side going from the bottom of her shirt down the side of her shorts. "What the hell?" Ron said, "Was she struck by lightening?"

Madam Pomfrey looked at the burns. "No, those are along her scar lines." She shook her head impatiently, "Someone who's been cursed like she has no business channeling all that magic."

"She's done it before," Thomas said in Hermione's defense, "and never Spliffed herself."

"She looks thin," Madam Pomfrey announced, "Has she been eating?"

"Almost constantly," Ron replied.

Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at him. "Is she pregnant?"

"No!" Ron said, desperately trying to remember if they'd forgotten the charm at all, but Hermione was almost always the one who did it and she'd never forgotten before.

"Under stress?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Ron dropped his eyes. "We had a row," he said quietly, "just before the storm."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "That'll do it. Come on, we've got some work ahead of us, Mr. Weasley."

Thomas looked at them. "Is there anything I can do, anyone I can contact?"

Ron looked at him. "See if you can find my brothers, Charlie and George, they were at the Welsh tent party last I saw them."

"Will do," Thomas said and left.

Madam Pomfrey cast a cleaning charm on Hermione and Mobilicorpus. She levitated her into the bedroom. "Come on," she said to Ron, we need to get her out of these wet things and take care of those burns. Then I'm going to have to wake her. Now, it's not going to be easy Mr. Weasley, she's going to be in a lot of pain when she wakes, but we must get her to eat this." She was rummaging through her black bag. Finally, she pulled out a jar with what looked like a glowing stone in it and handed it to him.

"What is it?" Ron asked, looking at the glowing rock.

"A fire berry, it has the energy and nutrients she needs to replenish. She'll need to swallow it whole, and then we'll give her sleeping potion to wash it down with. That'll put her back under and let her recover."

Ron nodded, "Alright then."

They spent the next several minutes getting Hermione undressed and dealing with the burns on her chest and side. Madam Pomfrey swabbed them with sticky, green goo and then covered them lightly with bandages. It seemed surreal to Ron to be standing over a naked Hermione, while Madam Pomfrey dressed her wounds, which looked as raw to Ron as though they'd just happened instead of years ago.

"Ready, Mr. Weasley?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Ron rolled the fire berry out of the jar and into his palm. He nodded.

"Ennervate!" Madam Pomfrey shouted flicking her wand at Hermione.

Hermione stirred groggily, moaning as her hand clutched her chest.

"Hermione," Ron said softly, "Come on, luv. You need to eat this." He ran his thumb over her lips. "Come on."

Her eyes just barely opened as she hunched over to favor her side.

"There's my girl," he whispered, "now I'm going to put this in your mouth and you're just going to swallow it." The fire berry was warm in his fingers. "Come on, open your mouth, Hermione."

She looked at him but her eyes seemed unfocused. She opened her mouth and he set the berry on her tongue. "You can swallow it with this," he said putting the sleeping potion to her lips. She did as she was told, which was surprisingly compliant for Hermione, Ron thought. He lay her gently back against the bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Madam Pomfrey was packing up her things.

"You're leaving?" Ron asked in a panic.

"I'll be back to check on her in the morning. In the meantime, watch her. Every time she wakes, it's important that she be fed, real food Mr. Weasley. Eggs scrambled with cheese are good. It needs to be high in protein and easy to eat, all she wants, understand? Then give her pumpkin juice with a spoonful of sleeping potion in it. You have to do that every time she wakes up for the next twenty-four hours, do you understand? And absolutely no magic! You should probably take her wand."

Ron nodded as he searched Hermione's desk for a quill. He found one and turned over what he hoped was a scrap piece of parchment and scribbled Madam Pomfrey's instructions on it. "Got it."

He walked Madam Pomfrey to the door of the tent.

When he turned back to the room he was appalled. There was mud everywhere. He looked down and realized that included all over him. He was also hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion as the last hour really began to catch up to him.

George and Charlie came into the tent.

"Bloody hell!" George exclaimed. "What happened here?"

"Some bloke who said he worked with Hermione came after us." Charlie said.

Ron ran his fingers through his still damp hair. "It's been horrible," he said and explained to his brothers what had happened.

"What can we do?" Charlie asked.

"Well," Ron said, trying to think. "How are your kitchen spells? Mine are rubbish and Hermione needs to eat every time she wakes up."

George and Charlie looked at each other.

"I'm rubbish as well," Charlie said.

George nodded, "Me too."

"Should we get Mum?" George asked.

"I don't know how we'd get her on the grounds without a ticket." Ron said.

"Yeah," Charlie said. "As it is, we've got to leave tomorrow."

"I'll send for Dobby," Ron said, "Harry and Ginny won't mind." He went to get parchment to write on.

When he came back he had two letters in his hand. "This one's for Harry," he said. "Give it to Pig. He's at the owlry. Tell him to fly straight there and not to wait until morning, to peck on the window until someone wakes up."

George took the letter. "Who's the other one for?"

"Seamus, telling him I won't be in the rest of the week."

George snatched the letter. "Seamus Finnegan."

Ron smiled weakly. "Sorry, hired him the other day."

George frowned. "You just wait," he grumbled. "The minute Hermione's better, I'm going to box your ears." He turned and stormed out of the tent toward the temporary owlry the World Cup committee had set up for the camp.

Charlie looked at Ron and snorted. "As if he could reach your ears."

Ron laughed half-heartedly. "Can you help me with this mess?"

"I'll do you one better," Charlie said. "I'll clean this up. Go sit with Hermione."

Ron nodded. He put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Thanks, Charlie."

Ron walked back into the bedroom and closed the drapes behind him. He pulled off his damp clothes and cast a cleaning charm on himself. He put on a pair of pajama bottoms and pulled Hermione's desk chair over next to the bed. It was going to be a long night.


	8. Another Illusion I Chose to Create

Chapter 8: Another Illusion I Chose to Create

It was two o'clock in the morning when Harry finally made it to Hermione's tent. He asked Winky to wait for him in the kitchen and made his way over to one of the two curtained bedrooms on the side of the tent. He peaked under the flap and saw George in one bed and Charlie in the other. They were both snoring softly.

Harry let the fabric drop and walked to the other side of the room, when he peaked under this flap he saw Hermione lying in bed. Ron was sitting in a chair next to her, but leaned over so his upper body rested on the bed next to her. He was holding her hand.

"Ron?" Harry whispered.

Ron looked up. It was impossible to read his face in the dim lighting. Ron kissed Hermione's hand and stood. He rubbed his eyes as he came out into the center of the tent. Harry wouldn't have wanted to swear on it, but it looked like Ron had been crying. Since he'd never known Ron to cry before, this hit him particularly hard.

"How bad is it?" Harry asked alarmed, wondering why Hermione was here instead of at St. Mungo's.

"They say she'll be fine." Ron said, his voice rough.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Good, there for a minute…" Then he thought better of mentioning the fact that Ron looked like he'd been crying. He clapped him on the shoulder instead. "You look like hell, mate."

Ron nodded. "I feel like hell. How did you get here so quick?"

Harry looked at him over the rims of his glasses. "I'm Harry Potter."

Ron snorted. "Oh, yeah. Sometimes I forget that. I suppose the whole Ministry was falling all over themselves to get you a Portkey at two in the morning."

Harry smiled. "Just one poor sod, really."

"Where's Dobby?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, "about that. Dobby won't leave Ginny right now."

Ron frowned. "How's that? What's happened?"

Harry could feel his cheeks flush. "Well, she wanted to wait a bit to tell everyone, but –"

Ron grinned. "She's pregnant?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "That's great, Harry, really great." His face fell, "But I really needed Dobby. How are you in the kitchen?"

Harry shrugged. "I can do a fry-up, but Winky can do better."

"Winky?" Ron said, "That drunk little elf from Hogwarts?"

Harry frowned and nodded his head toward the kitchen. He lowered his voice, "Dobby says she's much better now. She wasn't happy at Hogwarts after he left, so when I woke him about coming out here, he went and fetched her. She's really thrilled to help out, Ron."

Ron looked skeptically toward the kitchen.

"Winky," Harry said, "come on out here."

The little elf peaked out from behind the table, straightened her spotless tea towel and walked toward them.

"Ron, you remember Winky." Harry said.

Ron stooped down and shook the little elf's hand. She seemed embarrassed to be treated with such deference. "Mr. Weezy, sir," she said, and curtsied.

Ron looked at Harry then back at the elf. "Are you good in the kitchen?"

Winky nodded blushing.

"You can make scrambled eggs and cheese and Cornish pasties? Hermione loves Cornish pasties."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Weezy." Winky said, bowing. "Cornish pasties are easy for Winky."

Ron pulled at his beard. "And you're alright with staying here for awhile?" he asked her.

The little elf nodded.

"Alright then," Ron said, "make yourself at home, kip anywhere you like."

"I was liking the cabinet under the sink, sir." Winky said.

"Are you sure?" Ron said, "It's awfully small."

"It's just Winky's size, sir."

Ron nodded. "As you like."

"Is there anything Winky can do for you now, sir?"

Ron sighed. "Can you sit with Hermione while I talk to Harry? If she stirs, even the slightest bit, come get me."

Winky nodded gravely. "Right away, sir." The little elf disappeared behind the bedroom curtain.

Ron looked at Harry.

Harry shrugged. "Best I could do, mate."

Ron sighed and sat down heavily at the kitchen table. "I'll have to pay her, you know. Hermione will kill me if I don't."

Harry shook his head. "Just don't tell her you're paying her. She'll freak out if you offer her wages."

Ron scrubbed his hands over his face. Harry hadn't seen him look this bad in a long time.

"You want to tell me what happened? Or just save it for tomorrow?" Harry asked as he put a kettle on to boil.

Ron pushed his fingers through his hair. "She Spliffed herself maintaining the stadium in a thunderstorm."

Harry looked at him. "By herself?"

Ron shook his head, "There were about ten of them. The stadium got struck by lightening. You know magic and electricity don't mix. It started to rip. I've never seen anything like it. Then they all started running toward it. They just seemed to funnel all this magic at it. It was really wild, brilliant. I can't even describe it and she was there doing it, pushing all this magic and holding that giant stadium together. It was amazing, Harry."

Harry sat down at the table across from him. "She's pretty amazing."

Ron let his forehead drop to the table. "It's my fault she Spliffed."

"How do you reckon that?" Harry asked.

"We had a row right before the storm." Ron said without moving.

"Well," Harry said, "it takes two to have a row, Ron."

"I started it," Ron said, "over something stupid."

The kettle whistled and Harry moved it off the stove quickly before it woke anyone. "Every time Ginny and I have a row, it's always over something stupid." He dumped tea into a pot and poured the hot water in, grabbed two cups and set everything on the table.

Ron just continued on as though he hadn't heard him. "I don't know why I get so bloody jealous. She's with me now, yeah. Why isn't that good enough?"

Harry poured a cup of tea and pushed it toward Ron. "Don't know, mate."

Ron sat up and pressed his fingers against his eyelids. "I just couldn't get those bloody pictures out of my mind."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, Ginny told me about those."

Ron dropped his hands and looked at Harry. "She saw them?"

"Just one," Harry said, "Hermione was burning them when she got there."

"Which one?" Ron asked warily.

Harry cleared his throat. She said Hermione was pretty much naked in a room full of other mostly naked people, and she transformed into her Animagus.

Ron wrapped his hands around his teacup and stared at it. "It was my fault."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'm a fan of free form guilt myself, Ron, but that's a stretch even for me."

Ron looked at him. "She would never have been there if it wasn't for me."

"Ron, she left you. That was her choice." Harry said.

Ron shook his head. "That's a lie. I've been lying about that for years. It's time I stopped, don't you think?"

Harry sat back in this chair, surprised at Ron's statement.

"She had every reason to leave me. I didn't really give her a choice." Ron pulled at his beard. "It's actually kind of shocking she stayed as long as she did. I was such a prat to her, Harry. And that last night, I really out did myself."

Harry sipped his tea, sensing that there wasn't really much he could contribute to this conversation. Ron seemed to need a confessor more than a friend at the moment.

"I don't know what was wrong with me that I couldn't see how depressed she was. I mean, the rest of us were going out partying and drinking after the war, but she just stayed home or went to the library. She spent all her time on the application process for the Unspeakables. It just made me so angry that she wouldn't lighten up and come out with us. But, of course, she'd lost more hadn't she? Her parents died. She was orphaned by the bloody war, but that didn't bother me. No, I thought she should just pull herself together and celebrate life. The more she withdrew, the meaner I got. I was already half drunk when she got home that last night. I wanted her to go out with me, but she had yet another test for the Ministry the next day and wouldn't go. So I told her to sod off. I told her I couldn't stand to spend another minute with her. I told her that she was so busy trying to prove she was better than everyone else by becoming an Unspeakable that she wasn't fun anymore. I told her she should stop sponging off me and get a real job. And you know what she did, Harry?"

_She left._ Harry thought, but he was wrong.

"She took it," Ron said. "She just stood there and took it. Didn't argue, didn't say a word, she just took it. So I left and went down to the pub. But when I got home, she was there, so I didn't think anything of it. And you know what she did?"

Harry shook his head.

"There I was sweating alcohol and reeking of smoke, but she made love to me, really, really slowly. Like she was memorizing everything. But I was so stupid. I just rolled off her and fell asleep. In the morning she was gone. And the next time I saw her she was on the cover of _Witch Weekly_ with Krum's arm around her." Ron dropped his forehead back to the table. "I keep fucking this up." He put his arms over his head, his voice cracked. "Harry, I've got to stop fucking this up."

Harry saw Ron's shoulders heave and looked away.

Winky appeared then. "She stirs Mr. Weezy."

Ron sat up and wiped his eyes. "I'll need those scrambled eggs and cheese now, Winky."

"Right away, Mr. Weezy," she said and trotted to the kitchen.

Harry watched Ron disappear under the curtain into Hermione's bedroom. He hadn't thought about that period after the war for a long time. He sighed inwardly with relief that he and Ginny had emerged from that troubled time relatively unscathed. He stood and stretched.

"Winky," he said. "Tell, Ron I've gone home to my wife. I'll come back later in the day at a more civilized hour."


	9. After All That's Been Said and Done

Chapter 9: After All That's Been Said and Done

Hermione was restlessly kicking the sheets when Ron came into the room. He used his wand to light the lamp next to the bed and flooded the room in soft light. She was clearly caught in a nightmare.

She surprised him by sitting bolt upright in bed and shouting, "Daddy!" Her eyes flew open and she instantly doubled over clutching at her side.

Ron sat next to her on the bed and smoothed his hand over her hair. "It's alright, luv, you're alright."

She looked up at him, bleary-eyed and panting. "Ron? What's happened?" She looked around, "Where am I?"

"You're in your tent at the World Cup. The Unspeakables held the stadium together in a thunderstorm and you Spliffed."

Hermione sat up slowly still favoring her side. "Spliffed?" She pressed a hand over her eyes. "In front of everyone? How embarrassing."

"Scary is more like it. You scared the hell out of me."

She dropped her hand and looked at him. "You were there?"

Ron dropped his eyes. "I was stomping around in the rain in right temper. I actually saw the lightening hit the stadium. Never seen the like."

Winky stuck her head around the curtain then. "Eggs and cheese, Mr. Weezy."

"Oh, yeah."

The little elf brought the plate over to the bed.

"Thanks, Winky," Ron said. "Could you get a glass of pumpkin juice as well?"

Winky snapped her fingers and the pumpkin juice appeared in her hand. She set it on the bedside table, and looked at Ron expectantly.

"Oh," Ron said. "That'll be all. Thanks again."

The little elf beamed as she walked backwards out of the room.

When he turned back to Hermione, she was glaring at him, although without much energy. "What the hell?"

Ron cleared his throat and cut into the eggs with the side of the fork. Without asking he held a bite up for Hermione. She didn't protest and opened her mouth.

"I asked Harry if Dobby would mind coming out, but he won't leave Ginny seeing as how she's pregnant, so Winky --"

"Hang on," Hermione said, weakly. "Ginny's pregnant? How long have I been out?"

Ron smiled. "Only a few hours. I just found out myself. They're not really telling anyone yet. Too soon, I guess." He fed her another bite of egg. "So, Dobby asked Winky and she agreed to come out and help."

"Why do you need a house elf?" Hermione said, shifting to try and ease the pain in her side.

"Madam Pomfrey said you had to eat every time you wake up, and I'm rubbish with cooking spells. I guess I could've asked Mum, but then there would've been all the mess trying to get her on the grounds for an extended --"

"Did you say Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yeah," said Ron, feeding her more egg. "I guess she's working the World Cup during summer hols, because she was the one who showed up. She's coming back in the morning to check on you." He held out more egg to her, but she shook her head.

Hermione sat back against the pillow and shut her eyes.

Ron took the opportunity to slip some sleeping potion in the pumpkin juice. "Here, luv," he said. "Drink this before you nod off."

She drank the juice obediently and was sound asleep in minutes.

Ron took the plate and glass back out to the kitchen. Having skipped dinner, he finished off the eggs and cheese. "Did Harry leave?" he asked Winky between bites.

The elf nodded. "He said to tell you he was going home to Mrs. Potter and that he'd be back later."

Ron nodded suddenly exhausted. He looked at the kitchen clock. It was three o'clock in the morning. "I'm off to bed, Winky. I'll see you in the morning."

He opened the curtain into Hermione's bedroom and eased himself in bed next to her on her good side.

It seemed like just minutes later when he heard someone whisper his name from across the room.

"Oi, Ron." George whispered.

Ron opened his eyes.

"Our ticket time is up. We have to catch our Portkey," George said.

Ron pulled himself out of bed. His brothers were in the main room of the tent with their rucksacks.

"Do you need anything before we go?" Charlie asked.

Ron shook his head. "No, she woke up awhile ago and I fed her and put her back to sleep, she should be fine."

Charlie hugged him. "I'm leaving for Romania tomorrow. It's been good seeing you."

Ron hugged him back. "You too."

George slapped Ron on the back. "I suppose Finnegan's minding the store for you."

Ron grinned. "Yeah."

"Git," George grumbled good-naturedly.

"Sore loser," Ron smiled.

As his brothers left, Ron could hear Hermione in the other room. She was moaning "no, no," over and over again.

"Winky!" Ron shouted, and went to Hermione.

The little elf appeared before Ron even made it to the bed.

"How about a boiled egg and toast with treacle?" Ron asked the elf, as he gently shook Hermione by the shoulders. "Come on, luv, it's alright. Wake up now, it's just a dream."

Hermione's eyes opened. She had been crying in her sleep.

Ron wiped the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. "Shh," he said, "it's alright now."

"What time is it?" Hermione asked in a voice rough from crying.

"Six o'clock."

"In the morning?"

Ron nodded.

Winky brought in breakfast, remembering to include pumpkin juice. "Breakfast for Mrs. Weezy."

Ron slid his arm under Hermione's and helped her sit up so she could eat.

She clutched at her side. "Damn it," she grimaced against the pain. She smiled weakly at Winky. "It's not Mrs. Weasley," she corrected. "Still Miss Granger."

Winky's eyes widened, before she disappeared from the room.

Ron held up a corner of toast and she bit into it. "Only for another month." Ron said, setting the toast down and slicing into the egg.

Hermione looked at him. "You still want to marry me?" she asked softly.

Ron looked up sharply. "Yeah, of course, don't you?"

Hermione dropped her eyes and pressed a fist into her side.

"Don't you?" Ron repeated. He felt a stabbing pain in his chest like someone had shoved a knife through his heart.

"I guess that depends," Hermione said without looking at him.

"Depends on what?" Ron said, forgetting that he was supposed to be feeding her.

"I love you," Hermione said hoarsely. "But it's taken me a long time to stop hating myself for what happened in Amsterdam, Ron. I can't live with you if you can't let it go, and trust me, I won't hold it against you if you can't. What you saw in those pictures…what I did…I wouldn't have had you know that about me for the world." She shook her head. "What you must think of me."

Ron suddenly remembered he was supposed to be feeding her, and held a bite of egg up for her. She turned her head away. "You need to eat," he said. "To get your strength back, healer's orders."

Hermione opened her mouth but wouldn't meet his eyes.

Ron let out a slow breath. "It's true that I wasn't expecting what I saw in those pictures, and I'm ashamed to say I let it get to me."

Hermione touched his knee with her hand. "How could you not?"

"Well, since it was my fault you were there in the first place, I can hardly blame you for what happened."

Hermione shook her head. "Ron, it wasn't --"

"It was," Ron insisted, holding up the toast for her. "I treated you like dirt and made you feel worthless. And if those pictures are any indication, you certainly took that lesson to heart."

She closed her eyes.

"Thank goodness you didn't listen to me about the Unspeakables," Ron continued. "When I saw you out there last night, I just couldn't…it was amazing, Hermione. You were amazing."

She looked up at him and frowned. "Not that amazing, I Spliffed and now I can barely sit up."

Ron gave her the last of the egg. "And that was my fault too, wasn't it?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's not your responsibility to see that I do my job without hurting myself."

"But you've never hurt yourself before," Ron said, "Thomas said that."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You met Thomas?"

"Yeah, he came back to the tent with Madam Pomfrey and me."

"Well," Hermione said. "I don't care what he said, it wasn't your fault I Spliffed."

"Madam Pomfrey said it was," Ron insisted. "She asked if you'd been eating and I told her yeah, loads. Then she asked if you were pregnant. I said you weren't. You're not, right?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Because if you were, --" he said gently.

"I'm not pregnant, Ron. Trust me, I'd know if I was."

"Alright well, then she asked if you'd been under undue stress and I said we'd had a row and she said that'd do it." He took her hand. "I would never have started that row, if I'd known it would hurt you like this."

Hermione shifted back down in the bed to lie down. "It wasn't your fault," she said, shutting her eyes.

Ron took the glass of pumpkin juice and put sleeping potion in it. "Come on and drink this," he told her.

Hermione shook her head without opening her eyes. "I don't want it."

"Come on now," Ron said. "Madam Pomfrey said you had to."

"I don't care," Hermione whined. "I know you've drugged it. I don't like it, it gives me nightmares."

Ron was torn. He didn't want to slow her recovery by not following the healer's orders, but he didn't want to give her nightmares either. "You think you can sleep without it?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Hermione murmured. "I'm exhausted."

Ron kissed her forehead. "Alright then, luv. We'll let it go." He tucked the sheet in around her and went back out to the kitchen.

Winky fixed him a cup of tea and he sat numbly at the kitchen table thinking about what Hermione had said. For the first time in a long time, he let himself think about the war, about everything that had happened, both during and after. He remembered finding the Grangers in a room awash with blood, their blood. He remembered having to leave Hermione there alone to deal with the Muggle police, because no one named Ron Weasley lived in England according to their records. He remembered how angry he was that they were killed. Voldemort was already dead and gone. The Death Eaters had killed the Grangers out of spite and nothing else. They'd gained nothing. If anything, more of them were tracked down as a result. Hermione had changed after that. To make matters worse a few weeks after losing her parents, Crookshanks had died and the combination just seemed to shut her down completely. Ron hadn't known how to cope with her. She wasn't crying or angry, she just seemed to disappear into her books and the long drawn out application process for the Unspeakables. He started trying to bait her into some sort of emotional response, but as his attempts proved unsuccessful, he just got nastier and nastier. He thought then of all the pictures he'd seen of her with Viktor Krum over the years, and how even in the ones where she was smiling, it never quite reached her eyes. He thought about the pictures from Amsterdam, how hollow and disaffected she'd looked through it all. _Thank goodness, Krum was there_, he thought, _to get her out_. He suddenly realized he'd turned a corner. He really was thankful that she'd had Viktor all those years. He was thankful for Viktor for helping her through a time that he'd been incapable of dealing with her. He hated that he hadn't been strong for her then, but he knew, truly knew, he was a different man now.

A knock on the outside frame of the tent jarred him from his reverie.

"Hullo, Ron," Ginny stuck her head through the tent flap.

"Gin," Ron said, rising from the table.

His sister crossed the room with Harry and Dobby trailing behind her. She hugged Ron then held him at arms length. "You look like something the cat dragged in."

"Thanks, Ginny, I can always count on you for words of inspiration and support."

She shrugged. "Sorry, how's Hermione?"

"Exhausted," Ron said. "But she's been awake a couple of times and eaten, so I think she'll mend. She's in a lot of pain."

"Have you slept at all?" Harry asked, concern wrinkling his brow.

"I got a few hours."

"I talked to Seamus early this morning. He was going in when I was putting the closed sign on the bar. He said to tell you not to worry, he's got everything covered, to take as long as you like."

Ron rubbed his hands over his face. "He's a good man." He looked down at Ginny. "How are you doing?"

She put a hand on her belly. "A little queasy in the morning, but nothing a biscuit can't cure."

"Congratulations," Ron said. "Seriously, I think it's great."

Ginny smiled. "Thanks."

Ron scratched his stomach. "Have you two eaten?"

Harry shook his head. "Aside from the biscuit Ginny had, no."

"Winky," Ron called.

The little elf appeared instantly at his side.

"I don't suppose you and Dobby feel like making a fry-up do you?"

Both elves fell all over themselves assuring him that nothing would make them happier and headed off to the kitchen.

"Let me go cast a cleaning charm and put on some real clothes," Ron said. "I'll be right back."

He ducked under the bedroom curtain and pulled his wand off the nightstand. He felt considerably better after casting the charm, but wished Hermione had thought to put a shower in the tent. He glanced over at her peacefully sleeping. He leaned over and lightly brushed her forehead with his lips before changing into shorts and a T-shirt. He tucked his wand into the wand pocket on the side of his shorts and on impulse did the same with Hermione's. Harry and Ginny were sitting on the sofa when he came out of the bedroom.

Ron dropped down on one of the leather club chairs and leaned his head back. "I feel like I've been hit with a bludger."

Harry looked at him. "Have you been able to talk to her at all?"

"Just a bit," Ron said, "enough to explain what happened and for her to tell me she wasn't sure she could marry me."

Ginny's head snapped up on the last. "What? Why not?"

Ron looked at Harry. "You didn't tell her?"

"At three in the morning? I would have had to wake her," Harry said defensively.

"Oh, yeah," Ron frowned.

"What happened?" Ginny asked.

"She Spliffed because we had a row," Ron said miserably. "About Viktor, because of those bloody pictures."

"Oh, Ron," Ginny sighed. "You have to put those out of your mind."

"I can't though, see," said Ron. "So what I've realized is, I have to face up to them."

Ginny shook her head. "I don't understand."

"I told her to get away from me and she did. I told her she was worthless and boring, and she believed that too. By the time she left me, all Hermione had left was magic, and if she'd stayed any longer, I'm pretty sure I could have taken that too."

"Ron --" Ginny started.

"No, Gin, I'm serious. I was a right bastard to her. I don't know why, really except to say that my capacity for cruelty when it comes to Hermione knows no bounds. I've never treated anyone else in my life like that, accept maybe you, Harry, fourth year."

"You weren't that bad," Harry muttered.

Ron rolled his eyes. "In the grand scheme of things, I probably wasn't that bad to Hermione either, except I was kicking her when she was down and she couldn't or wouldn't fight back. I didn't know how to cope with her without her temper. I just kept poking at her, waiting for her to unleash it. I kept looking for the torrent of canaries, you know."

Harry smiled at the memory and nodded.

"But the canaries never came," Ron said softly. "So see, I don't want to forget those pictures. I need to remember them. I need to remember that it's as much my fault she was there as it is hers. I need to remember how grateful I am to Krum for getting her out of there, and for taking care of her. I need to remember how happy I am that she's back with me in spite of all that."

"Have you told her all this?" Ginny asked as she smiled warmly at him.

"No," Ron said, "but I will as soon as she can sit up for more than five minutes."

"I'm sure she'll still marry you," Harry said.

"She has to," Ron said, "because I'm not leaving her. I don't care if she wants to start her own live sex show. I'll just buy her a pony and sit in the front row cheering every night. She can't get rid of me."

"Well, that's a career change I hadn't considered," A weak voice said from behind them.


	10. Detours, Fences

Chapter 10: Detours, Fences

Ron stood and spun around. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Hermione was swaying slightly. "I had to use the loo. Then I saw my hair. Where's my wand?" She'd managed to pull on a dressing gown, but was holding it closed with one hand while clutching her side with the other.

"You can't use your wand," Ron said, taking her by the arm and turning her back toward the bed.

"I have to," she said firmly. "It looks as though something's been nesting in my hair, and I think there's mud in it."

Ginny took Hermione's other arm. "I'll take care of your hair for you," she said soothingly.

They got Hermione back over to the bed, but she wouldn't get in. "I need something to sleep in," she said to Ron. "I can't keep sleeping naked, there are people here."

"All right, I'll get you a gown, please get back into bed," Ron said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. He couldn't find a gown so he pulled one of his pajama tops out of his luggage.

"Ron, who did this cleaning charm?" Ginny asked. "There really is mud in her hair, and look at the pillow."

"It was Madam Pomfrey," Ron grumbled. He got Hermione out of the dressing gown and into the nightshirt while Ginny cast cleaning charms on the bed and Hermione.

"Well, she did a terrible job," Ginny groused. "You'd think a healer would cast a better charm."

"I was concerned about getting her wounds clean, not doing her hair," A prim voice announced from the door.

"Madam Pomfrey's here," Harry said sheepishly from the curtain into the bedroom.

"I hate living in a tent," Ron grumbled.

"Why isn't she eating?" Madam Pomfrey demanded.

"She just woke up," Ron cried. "Winky!"

Winky appeared with a plate of fried eggs and sausages with mushrooms and baked beans.

"She doesn't like beans," Ron said.

Winky snapped her fingers and the beans disappeared. She snapped her fingers again and a glass of pumpkin juice appeared.

"Thank you, Winky," Ron said. "Don't know what I'd do without you." The little elf beamed as she Disapparated. It seemed like there were too many people in the room to him, but he wasn't sure what to do about it. Ginny managed to get Hermione's hair clean and untangled and falling in long relaxed ringlets. "That's actually quite fetching," he said to his sister.

Ginny smiled. "Thanks, I always thought it would look good like that."

Hermione seemed to be wilting. Ron broke off a piece of sausage and placed it in her mouth. She seemed barely able to chew through her exhaustion. Ron continued feeding her while Madam Pomfrey checked her wounds. The scar on her chest, the oldest of the two, had returned to normal. The scar on her side looked better, but Madam Pomfrey swabbed it with more green goo and put on a fresh dressing.

"You're coming along, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said. "How are you feeling?"

"Just really tired," Hermione said. "Where's my wand?"

"I have it," Ron told her and gave her a forkful of mushrooms.

"But you'll not be using it," Madam Pomfrey insisted. "A full twenty-four hours of bed rest and no magic, after that you can start back slowly. If you ask me, you have no business channeling the kind of magic you do having been cursed the way you have."

"No one asked you," Hermione mumbled crossly.

Ron's mouth dropped open, and he and Ginny looked at each other in surprise.

Madam Pomfrey made a huffing noise. "Like it our not, you should still be more careful. Mr. Weasly, I'm done here. If the scar on her side isn't back to normal by midnight, take her to St. Mungo's."

Ron handed the remains of the plate of food to Ginny. "Finish feeding her, will you? I'm going to walk Madam Pomfrey out."

"She didn't mean to be rude," Ron apologized as they walked to the tent's entrance. "She's just really fagged, that's all."

Madam Pomfrey gave him a withering look. "Miss Granger just doesn't like being told what to do. She never has."

Ron walked her out of the tent. "Yeah, about that. What you said back there about channeling magic, what did you mean?"

"Simply that she has no business conducting that kind of energy when she's been cursed. It takes a terrible toll on her body."

Ron shook his head. "I don't understand. One of the others said she'd never Spliffed before so --"

"I'm not talking about spliffing, Mr. Weasley. I'm talking about curses. Every time she handles large volumes of magic, which I assume she does quite often in her line of work, she lights up those scars. Magical wounds don't ever go away entirely, I assume you know that."

"I do a lot of magic in my work," Ron said defensively. "I've never had a problem."

Madam Pomfrey looked at him crossly, but then her face relaxed and she smiled. "I've no doubt you're a fine wizard, Ron, but Hermione is in a whole other league."

Ron nodded, "Yeah, I know, but --"

Madam Pomfrey patted his arm, "Just keep an eye on her. I know she's not going to change her line of work, that would be too sensible."

"But what can I do?" Ron asked, concern starting to chill him.

"Well, alleviating extraneous magic would certainly help. I was happy to see you have a house elf, I'm sure that reduces her burden tremendously."

"Yeah," Ron nodded, _but that's just temporary_, he thought,_ and she'd never stand for it to be permanent._ But his mind instantly started working on how to change that. "Thanks, Madam Pomfrey. It was good to have someone we know, you know, for this."

She smiled and patted his arm again. "Good luck, Mr. Weasley."

Ron watched her for a moment as she walked away. He shook his head to clear it then stepped back into the tent. Harry and Ginny were at the breakfast table tucking into the fry-up. He sat across from Ginny and began shoveling food on to his own plate. "Did she go back to sleep?"

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, but she finished most of her breakfast first."

"Good," Ron said, then looked at the elves busily doing the dishes. "Dobby, Winky could you join us for a moment?"

Both elves stared at him wide-eyed. "At the table, sir?" Dobby finally managed to choke out.

"Yes," Ron said in frustration. "Grab a plate, tuck in, I've got something I want to discuss with you."

The elves looked at each other but they both reluctantly took plates and forks and sat down slowly at the table. Ron passed Winky a plate of sausages. "So, Winky," Ron said, "what are your plans after this?"

"Plans, sir?" Winky said, taking a sausage and handing the plate to Dobby.

_If her eyes get any wider_, Ron thought, _they're going to fall right out of her head._

"I was just wondering," Ron continued. "If you're happy at Hogwarts or if you'd consider taking a permanent position elsewhere?"

Harry and Ginny looked up at him.

"Ron, Hermione would never - " Harry started.

Ron cut him off with a glare.

Winky and Dobby now each had an untouched sausage on their plates.

"Well," Winky said slowly, "Hogwarts took me in after my shame, sir."

"Dumbledore took you in," Harry said sadly, "and he's gone now. I don't think you owe the school itself any allegiance, Winky. So if you'd prefer to work elsewhere, please don't feel you're bound to Hogwarts."

Since Harry was a professor, Winky seemed to take his word without question. She sat quietly for a moment before saying, "Well, then Winky is preferring a family, Mr. Weezy."

"Then I'd like to offer you a position," Ron said.

"Hermione's never going to go for that!" Ginny blurted out.

Ron glared at her. "You don't know that."

Winky's shoulders drooped. "It's true, Mr. Weezy, Miss doesn't like house elves."

"That's not true." Ron said adamantly. "She's quite fond of house elves. She really only wants what's best for them. Tell her, Dobby."

Dobby nodded. "Miss Granger believes in free house elves and so does Dobby."

Winky shook her head, clearly appalled at Dobby's statement. "Winky doesn't want to be free. Winky wants a family."

Ron patted her hand. "We'll be married in a month. We want a family too. Hermione's been very appreciative of what you've done for her. I'm sure if we work together, Winky, we can make her see the sense in you staying with us."

Winky sat up straight in her seat and squared her shoulders. "If Mr. Weezy says so, Winky will try."

"Excellent," Ron said. He passed her a platter. "Eggs?"

The rest of breakfast was spent explaining the ground rules for convincing Hermione to take on a house elf. Winky balked at the idea of payment, but finally acquiesced to an account at Gringott's in her name as long as no one ever handed her money or made her check the account. Ron thought that seemed fair.

After breakfast, Ron and Harry played several games of chess until Ginny announced that she really should open up the Three Broomsticks for the lunch crowd. She and Harry got ready to leave.

"Send an owl if you need anything," Harry said, "I can stop by after dinner if you'd like."

Ron shook his head. "You don't have to do that."

"Well, send Pig if you change your mind," Harry said.

Ginny hugged him goodbye and Harry activated their Portkey.

Ron spent the afternoon writing letters to Seamus and several buyers, trying to handle as much business as he could without leaving Hermione. She slept until about two o'clock. Winky had Cornish pasties ready and Ron brought a couple of them into her.

Hermione was much more alert now, and clearly felt better. She ate on her own, and instead of immediately falling back asleep, she decided to read for awhile. Ron took this as a positive sign and decided to risk walking down to the owlry to send his letters.

It was nice to get out in the fresh air, and the throng of the World Cup crowds seemed exciting again instead of annoying. He liked all the sights and smells. A match was going on in the stadium and the roar from the crowd came in waves, which drowned out the calls from the vendors. It occurred to him then what a good job Hermione had done of sound proofing her tent because none of this was audible inside it.

When he made it back to the tent, the first thing he did was stick his head in the bedroom to check on Hermione. He was greeted with an angry glare.

"You ambushed me with that elf" Hermione growled.

"I did not," he said innocently. "Where is she?"

"I gave her some galleons and sent her to the market," Hermione grumbled. "Why didn't you discuss it with me before you sent her in here to ask if she could stay with us?"

"I didn't send her," Ron said, holding his hand to his chest.

"You're a terrible liar, Ron. I know you want her to stay and I'm sure it's very convenient for you to have her around, but I don't want or need a house elf." She picked up a pasty and bit into it.

"You think I want her to stay for me?" Ron said, affronted.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm sure Dobby won't be available to pick up after you for much longer now that Ginny's pregnant."

Ron hadn't considered that. "Well, that's probably true," he mumbled. "But that's not why we should consider offering her a position."

"I'm not offering her a position!" Hermione insisted.

"Hang on," Ron said. "Shouldn't this be a joint decision?"

"Ron!"

He sat on the edge of the bed. "You can't keep doing everything, Hermione. Madam Pomfrey said --"

"Sod her," Hermione said and angrily took another bite of pasty.

"Look at you," Ron said. "You don't even have enough energy to argue without fueling up during the process."

"You want me to take in a house elf because I Spliffed? That's ridiculous!"

"Madam Pomfrey said –"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Ron ignored her and continued. "Madam Pomfrey said it's not about the Spliffing. She said someone whose been wounded the way you have shouldn't be channeling so much magic. She said it activates the scars."

Hermione dropped her eyes and began picking at the sheet.

"Does it?"

"Ron," Hermione said, looking him in the eye. "Seventy-five to eighty percent of what I do is research."

"But the other twenty-five percent?"

"Hurts sometimes, but it's nothing I can't handle."

Ron covered her hand with his. "That might be true now, but what about in the future? I thought you wanted children."

"I do," Hermione whispered.

"Then Winky could take away some of your magical burden. She could do the generic stuff around the house that you don't need to waste your energy doing."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. "And you can't take on any of that?"

Ron smiled. "I'm more than willing to do my fair share, Hermione, but let's face it, my household spell work isn't up to your exacting standards."

"That's not true," Hermione said without much conviction.

Ron frowned. "I've seen you redo stuff I've done around the house when you thought I wasn't looking. So far the only thing I do that seems to suit you is make tea."

"That's not true," Hermione said softly running her hand up his thigh. "Quite a lot you do suits me." She looked up at him demurely. "Your charms of Muggle artifacts are quite brilliant."

"True," Ron replied, "but not edible."

Hermione withdrew her hand.

"So unless you're thinking of a career change, I think you should seriously consider taking in Winky," Ron said it gently, but inside he thought, _Score!_

"Don't go buying the pony yet, Ron," Hermione said, arching an eyebrow.

Ron winced. "Heard that did you?"

Hermione took his hand. "Yes, but I heard what you said before it too."

"I meant it, you know," Ron said. "I really am very happy to have you back. I pissed this away once before over a few bad months. I'm not going to chuck it now over a bad week you had years ago."

Hermione kissed his hand. "I appreciate that." She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Tell Winky she can stay, but on a trial basis, and even if it works out, there will be no binding spells tying her to us and our descendents forever. All right."

Ron grinned and kissed her. "You won't regret this."

"I better not."

"Do me a favor, finish your pasty and go back to sleep for awhile, yeah," Ron said.

"I am kind of tired," she said, picking up the pasty.

Ron kissed her forehead and went back out to the living room.

When Winky arrived back from the market he told her the good news. She was very excited. She celebrated by making a fabulous dinner. Hermione woke around eight and had to admit it was delicious and not something she knew how to make. After dinner, Ron's day caught up with him and he went to bed. He was feeling pretty good about the day's events. He was lying on his back with Hermione curled up next to him. On impulse, he flicked his wand at the ceiling of the tent and said the sing-song incantation that made stars appear there. He kissed the top of her head and she murmured something against his chest. _It should always be like this_, he thought.


	11. I Come Back to the Place You Are

Chapter 11: I Come Back to the Place You Are

The next morning Ron woke to Hermione getting out of bed.

"You alright?" he asked groggily.

"I'm fine," she whispered, "just going to the loo."

Ron shut his eyes and dozed back off. He awoke with a start sometime later when he realized she hadn't returned to bed. He looked over toward the loo; the door was open and she wasn't in there. He pulled his pajama bottoms on and headed out to the main room.

Hermione was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and sitting at the kitchen table writing furiously on a long piece of parchment. Another quill was writing by itself on another piece of parchment. She had a cup of tea and a half eaten scone in front of her and didn't see him walk in.

"Hermione!"

She looked up at him. "Morning," she said and returned to her writing.

"What are you doing?"

"I had a brainstorm this morning about my project, and I wanted to get it down on paper before I forget it," she said without looking at him.

"You're better then?" Ron asked, frustrated with her single-mindedness.

"Loads," she said as she pulled a fresh piece of parchment in front of her. The quill next to her also moved on to a fresh piece.

"Let me see it," Ron said.

"It's not ready. Besides, you know I can't share my work with you."

"Not your work, your side," Ron said in frustration.

"It's fine." Hermione scratched something out on the parchment.

Ron lowered his voice and enunciated each word. "Let. Me. See. It."

She looked up at him and set her quill down. "Oh, all right," she said and lifted up the side of her T-shirt.

Ron could see the thick white scar was back to normal now as it ran under the waistband of her shorts. "Fine," he said and kissed the top of her head.

He went back into the bedroom and cast a cleaning charm and got dressed.

"I'm going out for awhile," he told her as he walked through the living room toward the entrance of the tent.

"It's raining," she said absently.

Ron pulled his wand out. "Accio cloak," he said and his oilskin raincoat came sailing at him from the bedroom. He pulled it on and stepped out into the rain. He'd seen something yesterday on the way to the owlry, or at least he thought he had. It had been out of the corner of his eye and he hadn't paid any mind at the time, but sometime during the night it struck him that he wanted to go back and see if the sign really read what he thought it did. It took some time to find the right tent. The shouts of the crowd were still coming from the stadium today, but the vendors were much quieter in the rain.

Finally he found the tent he was looking for just after the Omnioculars vendor. Sure enough there was the sign. It read: 'Kittens for sale, Mum is a good mouser, Father a wandering Kneazle'. Ron knocked on the frame of the tent and a small boy pulled back the flap.

"Do you still have kittens?" Ron asked him.

The little boy nodded. "Mum!" he shouted over his shoulder.

A frazzled looking witch came to the door.

"I'm here about the kittens," Ron said.

She held the flap open for him to come inside. Ron stepped down into a large living room in one corner of which was a box of kittens.

"There they are," she said. "Just those three left. Had five to begin with. They're ten weeks old, fully weaned. Have you had a cat before Mr. - "

"Weasley," Ron said sticking out his hand. "Ron Weasley."

The woman's eyes widened. "The Ron Weasley?"

Ron could feel himself blushing. "I suppose."

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," the witch said, shaking his hand heartily. "Timmy, come here." She picked her son up. "This is Mr. Ron Weasley, he fought in the final battle with Harry Potter." Her son's eyes widened as his mother's had. "Shake his hand, Timmy, this is a moment you'll want to remember."

Ron shook the small boy's hand. He cleared his throat. "I really just came about a kitten."

"Of course, Mr. Weasley, of course." The witch ushered him over to the box of kittens. "Whichever one you like."

Ron looked at the three gray tabby kittens curled around each other, asleep in the box. "My fiancé used to have a old tom mix like this, only he was orange. Are any of them male?"

The witch scooped a kitten out of the box. "Just this one."

Ron took the tiny kitten from her. "I'll take him then." He reached for his money purse.

"No," the witch said, scandalized. "I wouldn't dream of charging the likes of you. You take that kitten home to your girl with my compliments. He'll make a fine addition to your home."

Ron could feel himself blush again. "Thank you," he said. He tucked the sleeping kitten into the large inside pocket of his coat and stepped back out into the rain.

As he approached Hermione's tent, he could see the older man from the night she Spliffed coming out.

"She's impossible," the man was muttering.

"Good morning," Ron said to him.

He looked up at Ron's greeting and stared at him like he was an idiot. "I suppose that depends on your definition of good," he grumbled and walked off in the rain.

Ron shrugged. _Some people._

Hermione was standing in the middle of the living room when Ron stepped into the tent. He could tell just by looking at her that she was in a right temper.

"They're sending me home," she said angrily putting her hands on her hips.

Ron was confused. "And that's bad?"

"Of course it's bad, they're only doing it because I Spliffed, but I'm fine now."

Ron tried to sort through what she was saying, "So you're in trouble?"

"No, he said it was because the fellow whose father died has asked to come back now that the funeral is over, but there's no reason to send me home. There's a tremendous amount of work to do here. We could use the extra hand."

"But I thought," Ron said carefully, "that you had a project going that no one really wanted to pull you off of. Isn't this just an opportunity to get back on track with that?"

Hermione shook her head. "Oh, you're just like him."

"Who," Ron said, "that bloke what just left?"

Hermione stared at him, but then he realized she wasn't staring at him as much as at his coat. "What's going on in your coat?" she said slowly.

"Oh," Ron had almost forgotten about the kitten, which was now clearly awake. "I got you something." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny cat. "No one was selling ponies."

Hermione's entire face lit up. "Oh, Ron," she cried, taking the little ball of fur from him.

"Word is," Ron said, "that his Mum's a fine mouser and his dad was a Kneazle."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Just like Crookshanks!" She held the kitten up to her face. "Aren't you the sweetest thing? Oh, and you're clever, I can see it in your eyes."

All thoughts of anger over being sent back to London seemed to slip her mind, and for that, Ron thought, getting the kitten was worth it. She set the kitten on the floor and hugged Ron. "He's perfect," she said and pressed her faced to his chest.

They both sat on the floor with him. Hermione conjured a string and pulled it for him to chase.

"What'll you name him?" Ron asked.

Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know. Crookshanks had a name when I got him."

Ron looked at the kitten attacking the string. "How about Horatio?"

Hermione looked up at him, a warm smile spreading across her face and lighting up her eyes. "That's perfect." She picked up the kitten and kissed his head. "Horatio." She looked around the room. "You know, there's no sense letting him get used to this tent and then uprooting him to London. Let's just pack up and go home."

Ron smiled at her. "That's the best idea I've heard all week."

In the end, Winky insisted on packing up the tent and bringing it back to London. Ron, Hermione and Horatio took a Portkey back.


End file.
